The Dust Master
by C.W. Schwarz
Summary: Two lovers seperated by their worlds, a mysterious and powerful force, and one who seeks to take the lives of many for his own revenge. Please R&R. I'd like to announce that starting tomorrow, I'll try to continue this that I got started.
1. Midusmmer's Eve

Chapter 1

Midsummer's Eve

Will took another soda from the coke cooler sitting in the far corner of the bar. A soft electric glow lit up a look of complete despair covering his face. The bar was named Barry's, a grubby place, the lighting fixtures being old, and worn out, flickered out every few minutes only to come on shortly after with the same dim glow. The bar was set aside in a deserted corner of Oxford. Mary Malone had come here to coverse with a close friend about her current situation, and had suggested that Will come to try to lighten his seemingly helpless depression. Will's daemon (separated similarly as the witch's daemons) was outside the bar socializing with a scrawny ally cat.

Mary was getting especially giddy, which was very unlike the scientist Will had been beginning to know well after his separation from Lyra. She was on the third of some potent drink unfamiliar to Will. He thought about a long, happier time ago when Lyra.... Lyra.... Will couldn't begin thinking of her before he drifted off into a tide of despair. He tried to compare the pain in his heart he felt by losing Lyra to the pain he felt at the loss of his daemon, Lyra was a part of him just as was his daemon, and the pain was equal perhaps even greater, but by losing Lyra he knew he wouldn't die, from natural causes, he added with a grimace as he pictured himself with a pistol to his head, he wouldn't be that drastic in his pain though. That, he knew. He dropped his head down onto the grimy bar bench where he was seated. He sat on a wooden stool with a leather cover that was held fastened by several brass studs.

"Don' worry boy, ye'll get er' back..."

Wills head snapped up so fast that he instantly regretted the pain it brought with it. The bartender standing in front of him was a large man, possibly around 50 years of age, his head was bald and when the lights flickered on it slightly shone. Will wondered how this man could possibly know about Lyra, and he started to fidget, but his worry was pointless simply because the bartender had read his depressed face.

"Heh heh, you don' need to look worried, boy, I own dis bar I seen plenty of peopl' like ye."

Will wondered how this simple man could have possibly ever seen something 'like him', someone who had left his lover simply not several miles, or blocks, away but worlds away, somewhere completely beyond his reach.

"By da way, boy, ya owe me a few pounds fer da drinks."

Will dug into his pocket and slipped several coins onto the bar table. The bartender scooped them up and walked around the bar table collecting the money from other regulars at the bar. All who looked to drown their problems, if not just momentarily, in alcohol. Will shuddered at the thought that he could be sitting in some kind of bar just as these men were, still mourning over the loss of Lyra.

He turned around to see if Mary and her friend were still talking, which they were so he began to turn his head around again to look back at the countless supply of drinks lining the wall in front of the bar table. Halfway turned around form Mary again, a man wearing a long trench coat, and crushing peanuts in between his fingers caught his attention. The man was looking directly at Mary and her friend, and seemed to be following their conversation to the letter.

Will knew he had been recorded missing for quite some time, and somehow word of the murder he had committed slowly spread, leaving him not only missing but wanted by the police. He hoped his mother did not read the papers. Will was seized again by feelings not so unlike his mourning for Lyra, but more for shame, he had left his mother, confused, in the care of an old piano teacher, named Mrs. Cooper, to protect her. But she couldn't possibly be faring well, Will knew she must miss him, and he knew he couldn't go to Mrs. Cooper's house for fear of being caught. He once tried to go during the middle of the night but a suspicious neighbor had called the police and Will had to run as fast as he could to escape the flashing lights of the police cars. Later he knew that it was a stupid idea and decided against trying it again.

Eyes focused not directly on the trench coat man but slightly to the left as if studying the beer glass stack. Will walked unnoticed to the side of Dr. Malone.

Mary's friend, a tall red haired woman, nodded to Will, "That's him?"

Will nodded, so slightly that anyone at least two feet away couldn't have even seen the movement. Will noticed that instead of some alcoholic drink in her hand she held a coke, and he was glad of it.

Mary how ever, nodded more uproariously, "Yup, that's—"

Will softly elbowed her side, and that seemed to have told Mary even in hey stupor that she was to stop talking.

"The man in the back-right corner," Will began, Mary started to turn her head to get a better view of the man.

"No! Don't look," Will hissed in a low tone.

Mary shook her head several times to try to get rid of the fuzzy feeling, "Shouldn't have drunk so much…"

Mary's friend looked at her helplessly, "I told you not to get a third one."

"It doesn't matter, that man in the corner, I think he's been watching you two since we came here, I don't know how much he heard…" Will whispered again with his back turned to the trench coat man.

Mary's friend cursed, "We better leave then." She addressed Mary, "If he's with the police you better not return to your flat, he must've heard your name, hopefully he doesn't know… well you, know…"

Mary, still shaking her head to try and clear the fog that surrounded her mind, sounded worried, "We don't have a place to stay, you know that, Liz."

Elizabeth, known as Liz to most people had already expected that and nodded, "Assuming that we get out of here, you can both stay at my place, a bit west of London, not far from here.

Will added in, "He's bound to follow us… how we could get anywhere, how could I have destroyed that damned knife…" But Will knew why he had to, as images of Specters danced around in his mind's eye. And as Lyra's face, tawny hair tucked back behind her ears, and a grin on her lips, took the place of the Specters he knew he would've been tempted to use the knife. He looked as if he was beginning to drift back under his sea of despair when the current situation reminded him of the urgency of their escape.

Liz looked confused at his talk about the knife, and obviously Mary didn't tell her about Will's adventures outside of his own world. She was going to begin to ask but she decided against it when she looked into Will's fierce blue eyes, as many people feared to do, and saw the sorrow deep within them.

Will cleared his mind of all but the present situation, "Think we could make a run for it?" A crazy idea was forming within his mind, part by part, but it was indeed forming. Like when you begin building a puzzle and at first it seems like nothing, but when it's finally formed it could be the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Oh, that won't be necessary." A cold voice whispered into Will's ear and he somehow knew that his metaphoric puzzle had just been cut in half.


	2. If Only Will Was Here

  
Chapter 2  
  
If Only Will Was Here  
  
Lyra did decide to go to Dame Hannah's boarding school, not of course by her own freewill, but because she knew that she had no say in the matter, and thought it better if she just went without argumentation. Lyra would've surely stayed with her ragamuffin friends, and that may have lifted her sorrow, but being in Dame Hannah's school had only made it sunk in more deeply. Schedules. Classes. Boredom. It was slowly killing her, and she and Pantalaimon both knew it.  
"Ms. Lyra, how many times do I need to ask!" Lyra's English teacher was a short women, perhaps only around four feet, and had the same kind of haircut as most teachers, the same curly, short, hair, her daemon, a sparrow whose feathers were the same, light brown color as the teacher's hair was a few feet off cleaning his feathers on the teachers, wooden desk. "Stop daydreaming in class!"  
"Yes, ma'am." Lyra mumbled, "I'll try not to again, ma'am."  
The teacher seemed to have accepted Lyra's answer and continued insisting to the class how the word aunt, pronounced by her as 'O-nt' was spoken differently than ant. But Lyra did not stop daydreaming, in fact she daydreamed even more.  
Everyone here had received more schooling than her, and were constantly making point of it, tricking her with confusing word gamers, and algebra. Luckily however, the girls here were not foolish enough to inflict any physical harm on her.  
Lyra sighed, and whispered under her breath "If only Will was here..."  
She missed Will terribly and it consumed all of her will power to not sink away beyond help in a trance of depression. It was as if a Specter was leeching away her life. She felt a horrible pain and if she thought about it long enough as Will had she would've discovered that it was like being separated from Pan.  
As if reading her thoughts Pantalaimon, wrapped around Lyra's neck, rubbed Lyra's cheek with his soft pine martin's head. He also rubbed away a tear falling down her cheek, although Lyra didn't even know that she had begun to cry.  
A girl sitting to Lyra's left sniggered, and her daemon changed into a hyena to imitate the girl's laughter. But when Lyra gave her an icy glare she turned back to the short women in the front of the room. Lyra's daemon had been the only one to settle in her age level, and that was an advantage for Lyra, the other girls figured that she was a year or two older and most of them kept their distance. Pantalaimon was gave the hyena, now changing into a mouse, a dangerous glare, and it climbed into the girl's shirt breast pocket. Lyra tilted her head sideways so that Pantalaimon's fur warmed the side of her face.  
The only friend Lyra had made was actually a year older and was in none of Lyra's classes. However she was one of Lyra's roommates. Each sleeping room in the boarding school generally accommodated three-four girls, and they tried to keep them around the same age, but that was not always an option. And Lyra was paired with her friend, Emily, and a girl several years younger than the two friends who generally kept to herself.  
Emily's daemon had settled into a small terrier. Not by a lover's touch, but on its own accord from age. Or so Lyra thought, she never saw Emily with any other boy on their short visits to Oxford, so Lyra assumed that Emily's daemon had just settled on its own, besides even if he had settled the other way, Emily would have probably never talked about it, as Lyra strayed from talking about Will.  
Emily knew of Lyra's adventures into the north but nothing else after Roger was killed, nothing about the other worlds... or Will. She expected something was missing but did not question into it, seeing Lyra getting first thoughtful and then miserable as if thinking of more than just what she had told Emily. Lyra didn't know if Emily believed her or not, after all, the Gobblers had quickly disappeared, and the missing children, the exact opposite. So it seemed that Emily had believed her.  
"Ms. Lyra! Daydreaming, again!?" The teacher stood at the front of the class, the blackboard pointer rapping against the aluminum rim that's rounded trenches kept the chalk pieces in place.  
Lyra knew what was coming next, as it had happened many times before. "Yes, ma'am."  
"Honestly Ms. Belaq-"  
By now Lyra was thoroughly upset with all her teachers responding to her as that, and even though she could withhold it long enough she didn't feel calm enough to do so today, "Its. Silver. Tongue. She spoke slowly and each word had a harsh edge to it.  
"Yes, yes, but I'd rather use your real name, you can call yourself whatever you want." She said this with the same kind of calm manor as most of the teachers here did, but if you listened closely you could tell that there was a deep edginess hidden away in it. "As I was saying, The Master of Jordan College has generously paid for your application and you choose to squander it away, dreaming. Your entire career revolves around your schooling, you can't expect to dream away your adult life. I don't know what to do about you Lyra." The teacher shook her head weakly.  
By now the rest of the class had been looking directly at her and she felt her cheeks blushing. However Lyra didn't look away from the teachers face. "You could let me leave." Lyra wished it sounded less like a suggestion and more like a command but she knew that she had no authority in the situation.  
Several of Lyra's classmates tried to refrain from laughing but many let out small giggles. The rest had grins on their faces, eager to see how the teacher would respond.  
The teacher shook her head yet again and gestured for Lyra to come into the hallway. The girls who had giggled before, did it again, but louder than before, and the more mature girls who had refrained from laughing and sat with smirks on their faces couldn't help from letting out a small giggle. But Lyra just stood up, straightened the hideous school skirt, and began walking out of the school class room. At the door way she paused, If only Will was here. If only any of them could be here, Iorek Byrnison, Serrefina Peckala, but they were, she remembered that Lee, Rodger, the gallivespians, they were all with her, their atoms were in the same room as she was. And that was calming. 


	3. Iron Clad Shores

Now is the time to return some reviews. 'looks around empty room' 'coughs politely' 'shrugs' Now is the time to write chapter 3.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Iron Clad Shores  
  
Will turned slowly around hoping in vain that the man behind him wasn't wearing a trench coat. As Will turned around, the man flipped open a leather case holding some kind of gold-like badge, but flipped it close again before Will could read it.  
The trench coat man was at least six feet tall, and his face was almost completely concealed between the trench coat's collar, and a wide brimmed hat whose shadow covered everything that the collar did not. Will could not see the man's eyes, but could see far enough into the shadow to tell that the man had a clean shaven face. Will could also see that pointed to his chest, but still inside the folds of his coat was a short revolver, concealed from both sides. The man was armed and Will had a sickening feeling that the man knew who he was.  
Mary gasped and took a step away from the man.  
The man's right hand holding the revolver steady, he used his left hand to pull out a small piece of paper, the side facing Will was a glossy white. Will cursed; he could discern the initials of his old school on the back and knew that it was a photo.   
The man looked from the piece of paper to Will, then back again. Then, about to put the photo away, he looked between the two one more time before giving a satisfying, empty laugh.   
"Will Parry, you put us on some chase there, and I'd like to know how you did it, but for that we have no time." The man gestured with his gun to the door at the far side of the bar, where a neon sign hung backwards over the doorway. "I don't like shooting people, but if they," the man studied Will as if trying to calculate how fast he could run, "decide to try and run I'd be forced to take action, wouldn't I?"  
The bar's owner caught sight of the man's gun. "Ey, ey, whatchu doin' waving dat gun around?"  
The trench coat man turned around in annoyance, "This boy is wanted for murder. And my superiors have granted me the right to use however much force is needed. You shouldn't interfere."  
Will wanted to call out to the bar's owner how it came to be that he committed murder, the bar tender had seemed so friendly, but the menacing black hole of the revolver pointed to his heart told him, for some reason that Will could not explain, that he would live a lot longer if he didn't.  
The bar keeper stared, his mouth slightly agape at Will, and the trench coat man turned back to look at Will and the two women. It was now that the man first took noticed of Mary and Elizabeth. And with his left hand flipped out another picture, and this time kept switching his gaze between Mary and the picture. Will wondered how many pictures the man had in his pockets.  
"Haha, it seems to be my lucky day, Dr. Malone, you are also under arrest." His laugh was empty and Will did not hear the sound of laughter but of the cruel sound of someone who was just getting paid. As the bartender's mouth fell open slightly more, the man explained, "She busted up a room of lab equipment."  
The bartender who had been friendly, than astonished, now looked at Will sadly muttering something about what this world was coming too, and then continued serving up drinks to the customers who hadn't committed murder. The others' attentions didn't follow the trench coat man, but stayed on their drinks.  
The trench coat man turned to Elizabeth, "What about you? What's your name?"   
"Li- err Elizabeth Burton..." Elizabeth stammered and spoke with much hesitation, thinking back trying to look through her memories for any felony.  
"Mmm... better come anyway Miss. Burton, being in the company of two criminals is rather suspicious. You'll need to be questioned." The man, for once, seemed to be friendly, but Elizabeth knew better than to think that of someone who was threatening to shoot them all up if they tried to get away.   
The man gestured once again to the doorway, and walking behind Will with the gun still out they made their way to the streets of Oxford. Will's daemon had settled down on the dirty sidewalk and looked up in surprise. Will could see its agitation at the sight of the gun.   
_ 'Kirjava, I think he's with the police, this looks bad.'_ Will thought to the daemon. Kirjava arched her back and looked ready to break the ancient taboo and rip at the man's right hand _'No, he'll shoot.'_   
Kirjava's back straightened slightly but she still looked tense. _'Do you think you can get out of it?'_ Will knew that Kirjava knew the answer already and answered honestly, _'No'_. But Will himself hadn't braced himself for the truth, they didn't let murderers off easy in Oxford. And he hung his head in despair. Losing Lyra was bad enough, losing years of his life in jail took him even farther into the sea of despair. And then realization struck him like a shot from the magnum pointing at his back. He would lose so many midsummer days. And with that thought, he drowned in the unrelenting waves of despair. His only connection with Lyra had been cut down.   
Will began to walk up to the car that the trench coat man was pointing to, it was a beaten up sedan, the original red paint had chipped off, and rust was showing where it had. The man was saying something, but Will could not hear under the sound of the waves of sorrow that crashed onto the iron clad shoreline of his heart. The iron used to hold fast, but now it had begun to wear away, revealing the tenderness within. Will's heart had once been iron all through, except for the center, which had been his love for his mother, but Lyra had loved him so much, Will could not hide it deep within the solid iron, and felt that it had to show. But now Will almost wished that it was hidden away, so that he could be the same steadfast Will as he had been before, he felt he could've withstood the police, and gotten away from everyone who would harm him, he could get away from it all, go somewhere far off, to be alone. He didn't want to be alone, he wanted to be with Lyra, of course. But happiness seemed to be restricted from him. And if he could be alone he felt he could deal with all the unhappiness in his life.   
Will hadn't noticed in his sorrow, but the car had been driving for almost an hour and was just now pulling up to an old house. Will realized that houses this old wouldn't have had electricity, and expected the light inside to be from numerous candles.   
The trench coat man got out of the rusting and slammed the door so hard that several flakes of the ancient paint fell off. He then took out his revolver and had it pointed through the window at Will. The man hadn't said anything but Will expected that he should get out. He opened his door and moved aside to let Mary and Elizabeth out.   
"Into the house." The man's voice wasn't much more than a grunt. He waited for the three to walk past him and he then pointed the pistol again at Will's back.   
Will walked up to the door and stood there. The trench coat man walked with long strides up to the door and gave a rhythm of short knocks. There was a sound of falling wood on wood from inside the house and the door opened a small amount to allow a man from the inside to stick an eye out the crack.   
Will, Mary, and Elizabeth all wondered why a police man would have to hide out at an old house, and none of them could think of a good reason. The man watching them through the crack took a step back and there was a small metallic flipping sound before the door opened far enough to let everyone by. The door closed with a loud thump which made Will turn around. The doors interior was plated with metal, and on the opening edge were three locks, each one, Will expected, opened the door a small bit farther.   
The house itself was barely furnished, not that Will expected it to be, the walls were wooden, and the only furniture was a table missing the bottom of one of its four legs, being held up by an old tome, and two chairs set on either side. One of which was on the ground. The table held a large bottle of whiskey, half empty, and a deck of cards. For all it was worth, it looked like a criminal hideaway in one of those old movies.   
"You don't know who we are, do ya?" The trench coat man spoke as if it were an obvious thing.   
"No." Will responded, wondering if the man wasn't just a police man.  
The trench coat man removed his wide brimmed hat, revealing the unfortunately familiar face of the blond man from Will's house, so long ago. The sorrow of spending time in jail was gone. The fear of being killed had come.


	4. Early Midsummer

Review response time! BOO YAH 2 REVIEWS! Danny Barefoot- thanks for the advice RCF- Yay I have a fan!  
  
Anyone reading this should go to it's a really good forum. Talk about everything HDM related including The Book of Dust and the movie speculation. Great stuff.  
  
I'd also like to thank my friend Supertechy2, whose real name will be withheld for his own safety, off Runescape for... well... never mind...  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Early Midsummer  
  
The early hours of Midsummer. And Will had been up for almost an entire day. He was still alive, and that was the first and not the last surprise of the day, he thought he would come here, they'd ask him where the letters from his father were held, and they'd shoot him. The blond man did ask for the location of the letters, but when Will responded that the letters were impossibly far away, not a lie at all, the man nodded as if he already knew and accepted Will's answer. Will then believed that momentarily he would be looking down the barrel of the revolver. But the blond man and his accomplice, whom Will expected to be the other man from the burglary, were waiting for something, and Will, Mary, and Elizabeth weren't being treated poorly at all, which came as the second surprise. In fact, the blond man's accomplice had gone into town to bring back food stores for the wooden house.  
When the man came back he slapped a thick bundle of white papers, which Will identified as a newspaper, in front of Will who had been sitting in the rear-left corner. Will gasped as he read the front page whose article read under the words, 'Shooting in Oxford Bar Results in Loss of Eight Lives". Farther down the article a black and white picture of Barry's Bar, recognizable by the unlit neon sign, showed the grimy place looking even worse, the windows shattered, the door broken down and a squad of police men standing around in front of a 'POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS' ribbon.  
"You... saved our lives?" Will knew that they had, but why they did, and how they knew were beyond him.  
The blond man nodded.  
"Why?"  
"The Master." It wasn't an explanation and Will wondered if the blond man had meant it to be one.  
The man who first was the threatening gunner, now sounded crazy and Will wasn't prepared to ask who the 'Master' was.  
"But... how did you know?"  
The man was ready to respond, "The Master."  
"The err... Master... tells you?" Will offered.  
The Man nodded enthusiastically.  
"And... why did you want the letters?"  
"Not us, letters for Master."  
The man sounded too much like a priest for Will's comfort. The talk about this 'Master' was incredibly similar to someone talking about their god.  
"The Master requests your presence." The man pointed up to the ceiling of the building when saying this. And Will began to think the man was some kind of monk.  
"How do we get to him?" Will decided to play along with the man's insanity, until such a time would arise when he could escape.  
"The Shards of Senyul." The man said it as if he wondered how anyone could not know, but three out of the five people sitting in various spots around the room were lost in bewilderment at the strange word. "You may call it..." He looked at his accomplice for the words that had seemed to escape him.  
The blond man's accomplice shrugged, "Donno, the... something-knife?" It was the first time he spoke, his voice was deep and he spoke with a slight Irish accent. In his voice somewhere lacked the insanity of his companion.  
"Oh," Will said after several seconds of thought, he realized what the men were talking about. If the men knew about the knife, then they must surely know of the Ci'Gazze world. He began to become curious about this 'Master' of whom they speak of like a god.  
"You are in possession of the shards? You do bare the mark of the bearer." The man said, looking curiously at Will's two missing fingers.  
Will was hesitant about telling the man, but his curiosity about the 'Master' outweighed his indecision, "Yes, back at Ms. Malone's house." It was now that Will wondered why Elizabeth and Mary had been taken here as well.  
"The shards must be reformed under the Master's direction."  
Will was, by now, thoroughly confused. "He will... tell you how?"  
"Yes"  
"Why can't he talk to me through you?" Will didn't mean to sound rude but the way he said 'through you' sounded as if he thought the men were only there to do just that.  
However the man took no offense at this, and if he did it was masked well enough. "The Master requests your presence. If it was not important he would."  
Light had begun to stream through the cracked window on the left side of the building, and Will just now realized that the Midsummer's Day had dawned.  
"Do you have the time?"  
The blond man's accomplice looked onto the old watch secured around his wrist. "5:30."  
Will sighed, up almost twenty-four hours and with no chance to rest in his future.  
"When do you think we should do this?" Will had hoped that it could be done in a few days.  
The man responded without hesitation, "Midnight. The Master's directions will come to me then."  
Will let loose a held breath, as the man said midnight, he had enough time to go to the garden, sleep, and then get the shards. He also realized that the blond man's accomplice didn't hear this 'Master' as the other did, and wondered how he could believe his cohort.  
The blond man saw the agitation in Will's face, "Go if you must, be back at midnight."  
The other man challenged him and dragged the blond man to a corner to converse privately. However, the building was small enough for Will to hear every word that was said between the two.  
"How can we trust him?"  
"We can't, our Master can not see into the boy, something blocks him."  
Will had a feeling he wasn't going to understand much of this conversation, but listened in anyway. He couldn't see it, but the other man rolled his eyes, "He's not my master, I'm not the one with the mark of insanity!"  
"Then why did you join the Disciples? To mock us?!"  
The man paused, "I thought that we would do more than the Master's bidding."  
"The Master knows more than anyone in any of the worlds."  
This confirmed Will's suspicion that the men knew more about the other world's than he himself did.  
"But does he know what's right? How many of us were part of the Assault on the Clouded Mountain?"  
"It was a losing battle; the Master didn't need us to die."  
"Then why did he need Mark to die!?" The man shouted this out but took no notice of the three sitting in the opposite corner. Will knew that Mark must've been the man he had killed, it seemed to be so long ago, the way his neck bent at that horrible angle that still made Will shiver.  
"For a reason far beyond our comprehension, if we needed to know he would tell us." The other man grumbled. "Once you're in you can't leave, Shawn."  
Shawn turned around and took the several steps to the edge of the table in the middle of the room. The blond man had laid his pistol onto it when he had been dragged into the far corner. His eyes held a treacherous glint in them. He reached for the pistol and Will cried out to the man now facing him. Mary and Elizabeth, who must have been asleep during the conversations, came awake in an instant. But it was too late. Shawn spun around and fired a shot off into the man's chest. The man slumped down the wall leaving behind a bloody streak. Before his eyes finally hazed over in death he tried to say something but it came out as a gurgle and blood dripped out of his mouth, he spit out a hideous amount of it before he could talk. "The Master knew of your treachery, it was meant to be."  
And it came to be that of the three men who had long been searching for Will, only one remained. The moment came as Will had expected it would several hours ago, he was now looking down the barrel of the revolver. 


	5. The Garden of Tears

Author's Note- I've been able to write a chapter a day for a while now. But I'm beginning to slow down. The updates will probably be coming in slower than before in the next few days. I'm sorry if you think the italicized phrases are corny but its how I see things.  
  
Review time!!  
  
Ceres Wunderkind- Sorry about Chapter 3, I didn't write it like that, something must've gotten messed up. But I worked on it for a few hours and used the replace chapter thingy. So it should be fine by the time this is posted. (Wow he's almost famous, and he wrote me review!)  
  
Chapter 5  
  
The Garden of Tears  
  
"Happiness is a fickle thing, for one day it blesses you with illusions of  
eternal bliss, the next it leaves you as an empty shell."  
(The story of Will and Lyra.)  
-Craig Schwarz- from 'My Attempts at Being Deep'  
  
"Through the pages of the untold story of life I wander, heart and soul in the fingers clicking on the keyboard. I write as I see fit, and no one can  
take that from me."  
(Independent)  
-Craig Schwarz- from 'My Attempts at Being Deep'  
  
Lyra was leaning back against the wall of the hallway, Pantalaimon still curled around her neck. Her English teacher came out shortly, and Lyra straightened up as she closed the door.  
The teacher sighed, "Lyra, I would let you leave, but St. Sophia's is your only home now. Jordan College can not keep track of the escapades of a growing girl, it seems that your uncle has simply disappeared, and obviously you can't just roam the streets like a beggar." It was the first time in her school life that a teacher addressed her as simply Lyra and none of the Ms., or last name titles.  
"You let me leave, staying alive is my own job." Lyra said this coldly and as shortly as possibly.  
The teacher realized with a shudder that the girl was dead serious, and couldn't help but respect her determination. "I'm sorry, Lyra, but Dame Hannah would not allow it."  
Lyra had almost forgotten the Dame, and remembered her promises to begin teaching Lyra how to read the alethiometer. Once she learned how to read it, she could use it to see how Will was doing, even if it wasn't until she was much older. But she would never be with him, to never see him, never kiss him again. She began to feel miserable again.  
"No... she wouldn't like it much." Her voice wasn't as steady now and began to falter when she thought about Will again.  
The teacher caught the tone of depression in her voice, "I'm so sorry, Lyra, I can't allow you to leave." She sounded sympathetic.  
"No, it's..." Lyra was going to say that she wasn't depressed at the fact that she couldn't leave. But then she'd have to explain why she was depressed, and she couldn't tell the teacher about Will, the teacher would just think that she was delirious, so she'd have to lie even more. She was tired of lying, every time she did she had to keep track of it, too many things to remember and she knew that one day it would all come crashing down on her, something like Pan being away from her when someone came up to her in a hall or in her sleeping room.  
"What is it, then?"  
The women sounded so nice, Lyra felt that she could tell her everything, but how could she, she hadn't even told Emily everything, and even if she did tell the teacher, how could she believe her... She'd have to lie, again. But that didn't feel like it should be an answer to all of her problems.  
"Would you believe me?"  
The teacher paused for a second, wondering what Lyra knew that she wouldn't believe, "Yes."  
Lyra took a deep breath, but before she could start her narration the bell signifying the end of the morning classes rang.  
"Over lunch?" The teacher asked.  
"Tomorrow, I'm going into Oxford today."  
The teacher flashed a brief, friendly smile at Lyra before the doors opened again and the rest of the class walked out of the room, daemons following behind them, on shoulders or in pockets, to either join the mobs moving towards the lunch room, or to walk out into the streets of Oxford to go home, or to a café to get their lunches.  
Lyra smiled back and joined the smaller group going into Oxford. She checked the clock tower when she got into the school's courtyard. It was nearly mid-day but she could make it if she hurried.  
"Lyra!" Emily and her terrier daemon ran up besides Lyra. "My parents came to pick me up for lunch, they said you could come too!"  
Lyra cursed her luck, "I'm so sorry... I have to go into Oxford today."  
Emily's chipper attitude subsided somewhat, "For what?"  
"For..." Lyra hated lying, especially to her friends, but she would tell Emily why sometime tonight, but now she had to go quickly, "Rodger..."  
"Oh..." Emily sounded disappointed. "I know! I could go with you, and my parents can pick us up!"  
"No, this is something I have to do alone..."  
"Ok, I see... well I'll see you tonight."  
Lyra waved to Emily, and then to her parents parked a block away, before quickly walking down the street in the direction of the botanical garden.  
  
Lyra was crying and her head tilted to where it would've been resting on Will's shoulder if he was there beside her. She pretended he was sitting beside her and had his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Well, she thought, he might be, for all I know.  
Pantalaimon was lying on his belly keeping a steady eye on the entrance to the garden. He felt Lyra's misery, but watered down some because he didn't love Will as she did. He looked up as a young girl dressed in a St. Sophia school uniform looked into the garden. He recognized her as the other girl in Lyra's sleeping room. And she recognized him.  
"Lyra?" The girl's voice was soft and quiet against the racking sobs coming from inside the garden.  
Pan ran back to the bench, "That girl... Michelle was it? From the school. She's outside."  
Lyra drew a handkerchief from a pocket in the breast pocket of her blouse, and rubbed it roughly across her moist face. Lyra muttered something of an apology to the imaginary Will sitting on the bench, which she only a few seconds later felt foolish for doing, stood up and walked over to where Michelle was standing by the entrance to the botanic garden.  
"Is... anything wrong?" The girl, who mainly kept to herself, showed a side of compassion that Lyra had never seen, and her butterfly daemon mirrored it by landing gently on Pantalaimon.  
Lyra was about to tell her to go away, but the girl seemed so sincere that she couldn't bring herself to it. So she nodded. "What are you doing in this part of Oxford, Michelle?"  
"I always come around here to think."  
"About what?" Lyra inquired.  
"Anything that's been bothering me that day."  
Lyra thought it sounded familiar to someone she knew, but couldn't put her finger on it.  
"Do you come here everyday? I don't think I've ever seen you around here."  
"No, just today its... special."  
"It reminds you of someone?"  
Lyra was shocked. "Yes."  
"Someone, who... passed away?" Lyra knew that it took some bravery to ask, and it proved her sincerity even more.  
"In a way, gone forever."  
"You want to talk about it?" In fact, she did want to, and the girl seemed to be able to read Lyra like an open book, but she could hear the clock tower tolling out three-quart. "Oh, we better go back to the school." Michelle began to walk away.  
"Hey, how about tonight?" Lyra called after her.  
Michelle turned around, and could see that Lyra was no longer crying, knowing that she had helped, she smiled and nodded. She then ran off going back to the school.  
It was then that Lyra realized that she had skipped lunch, so she walked over to a sidewalk café and ordered a cup of coffee and a few tea biscuits. She walked slowly back to the school and made it just in time for her next class. And just as she reached did she realize that she had made a new friend.  
That night, two girls were enlightened to the events beyond Oxford. Lyra didn't hesitate to tell them everything that had happened, but she made them promise to not tell anyone else. Whether or not they believed her was not Lyra's concern, but now that she had told someone, it felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 


	6. Paranoia

Author's Note- Despite past author's notes I am still pumping out a chapter every day. Lucky for any fans that I may have accumulated, I have more words already than most 2-3 month projects. Yay for me. Also I'm trying to think of a way to pick up the pace with Lyra's chapters. So far they've been kinda... I donno... I was trying to go for something of a drama almost, but things need to pick up. So here it is. (This may take a while to write. I'm hungry, I need some sugar, and I'm writing about a difficult character.) Yippee.  
  
Review Response Time!! ..................................... ...Thanks for the support.......   
Chapter 6  
  
The Church, Why Would They Want To Kill You?  
-Similarly Named-  
Paranoia?  
  
The day after Midsummer and Lyra strode into her morning classes with a much better attitude than her teachers had ever seen before. She was much more attentive in class after her recitation of her journeys with Will through out the worlds. She was still wary about reciting her tale to her English teacher. But why not, she thought.  
Her first period class went by quicker than she had thought, quicker most likely because she was not drowning herself in self-pity, and English came next. That too went by quickly and before she had time to think she was out in the streets of Oxford with Michelle, Emily, and her English teacher. Relating, once again, her story from the moment she first saw Mrs. Coutler to the moment that the window between the worlds was closed, took several days to tell fully. She had problems relating the parts with Will but with her friends beside her and the teacher listening intently she got through them.  
On the last day of her narration she finished far before the lunch period was over, so the four went to an actual restaurant and Lyra's English teacher generously paid for the fare.  
Going out for fresh air after the large meal, Lyra walked up and down the street that the restaurant was on, Pantalaimon walking briskly behind her. Between the restaurant itself and a large walkway leading up to a college that Lyra identified as Bridgeton, there was a dark alley. Filled with dilapidated boxes, and scraps of metal it was indeed a menacing place. Lyra paused in front of the entrance to the dark causeway and tried to see into the veil of darkness. It seemed that the shadows were moving about, and she could almost make out the shape of a man. She turned around and meant to continue walking when, but an icy fear engrossed her heart, out of the corner of her eye she could see the defined shape of a man standing in the shadows of the alleyway. She intended to run off, but the man grabbed at her and with a hand over her mouth to muffle the screams drew her back into the shadows. Lyra could identify a crucifix around the man's neck before all else was distorted in darkness.  
  
Meanwhile, back in the restaurant, the three that were left walked casually onto the street and looked both ways for Lyra. When they couldn't find her up nor down the street the English teacher shrugged, "She probably went back to the school." The other two nodded and walked right past the dark opening, Michelle paused while the other two walked by to look down into the polluted path. Shuddering, she continued on, oblivious to that fact that Lyra and her kidnapper were only about ten feet beyond, and that Lyra had tried to call out her name.  
  
Lyra was being blindly dragged through the filth and debris of the alleyway, and as soon as her eyes had adjusted to the dark could see that her captor wore church-garb. But his robes, instead of being a white color were as black as the shadows that blurred her vision. After running through the shadows for about five minutes the man's pace slackened, and then stopped.  
Lyra had heard tales of what priests did to young girls and shuddered violently, what her mother put as a 'feverish obsession with sexuality', and was relieved, then horrified when through her blurred vision the man pulled a knife out of a fold in his robes.  
The man held it, a moment before Lyra knew that it would plunge into her heart. Her legs gave way beneath her and she fell onto her knees. Crying openly now, the priest hesitated. And an instant later one of the two fell back, dead into the dirty ground, a pool of blood forming around the body. An object of messy death imbedded deep within their heart. It was a perfect kill with no witnesses, and the body wouldn't be discovered for days.  
  
The author grins devilishly in his sick obsession for death. Cackling with delight is his morbid fantasies.  
  
"Do not ask for whom the next chapter brings to death, it brings it to you." -Giarc1126 


	7. Paranoia p2

Author's Notes- (Wierd, I wrote this chapter in paragraph form, with tabs and what-not, but when I uploaded it, it wasn't right, even after I fixed it in the quick edit, it went back to this wierd form.) I'm sorry I haven't uploaded in the past few weeks, I couldn't use my computer for a lot of the time, and I've been playing Starwars Galaxies a lot. I wrote this chapter on paper and am just now copying it onto the computer. You might be reading this almost a week after I actually wrote it because I'm trying to copy this chapter down in less than thirty minutes. And after that I'm gone. I'm amazed I've gotten so many good reviews so, thanks all, for all the support. And now the most anticipated... Chapter 6 Part 2 Huurrrrayyy!!!! Oh and this is _Part 2_ so don't expect it to be long.

Review Response- I got a few reviews that didn't seem like most of the reviews that just said 'I like it.' In different variances and extremities, don't get me wrong I love those kinds of reviews : ), but I got a few different ones lately.  
  
ladyevenstar- The purpose of Chapter 7 is beyond our mortal minds to comprehend, in other words, wait a few chapters.

Ceres Wunderkin/Katty Engles- I understand both of your points here, so I'll try to satisfy both. I always thought I didn't have enough little details and maybe I went a bit overboard for this, but whatever. (And I won't bite your head off...... or _will_ I?)

Chapter 6 (Part 2)

Paranoia

Lyra gasped

OMG! Lyra's alive YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Although I didn't get any bad reviews about 'killing Lyra off', did you people think that dead people could just rip something out of their heart and live again? Sheesh... seriously consult a therapist if you thought that. I'm not a happy-go-lucky kinda guy, expect dark changes in the way you think Muhahahah!!!!

As the blood from her wound soaked her clothes, her eyes were closed and she wondered if pain this immense could simply not be felt instantly.

She lay there on her knees for awhile longer, before finally opening her eyes to the dark alleyway, and nearly choked in surprise. She stood up on wobbly knees threatening to give way at any moment.

Her kidnapper lay motionless, face down in the debris that littered the alley. Her hands crept up to her breast to where she expected the dagger to be logged.

Nothing.

She nervously looked down and her eyes scanned over her front.

Nothing.

_Then, _Lyra thought, _who- whose blood is it?_

She walked slowly and cautiously to the still form lying limp. It took some effort, but she managed to flip it over. She gasped again and took a step back. An arrow had been driven, almost up to the flights, within the man's heart, blood still flowing freely.

Lyra looked subconsciously looked around the alley, seeing nothing she looked up around the tops of buildings lining the sides of the alley.

A light thud behind her had her spinning quickly on her heels, hearting beating painfully against her chest.

There was a tall women standing there, clothed in black silk, and holding, in one hand, a bow, and in the other a long branch of what Lyra expected to be pine. Her heart leapt, a witch had saved her! Maybe she was from Serrefina's Clan, or maybe even Serrefina herself!

"Greetings, Lyra Silvertongue!" A familiar voice hailed.

"Serrefina Peckala!" Lyra laughed in surprise and happiness, the first time in almost a year. She ran out to embrace the witch, oblivious to her blood soaked clothing. "If you had come only a second later, I may've died. I'm so glad you're here!" Lyra remembered how the priest had stalled, and shivered at how close to death she had come.

"I'm sorry our meeting can not be a joyous one," she said sadly. "Several of my scouts have reported a certain angel, female, that seems to have taken an interest in you, and seems to be relaying information between two worlds..."

Lyra's curiosity was aroused, "Do you know which ones?"

"Yes... yours and... Will's."

"But you said this could not be a joyous meeting, this is great news! She might know him!"

The witch shook her head, "I thought the same, Lyra, so I asked her on her latest trip, she just shook her head and flew away back to Will's world through an invisible gateway."

"Oh..." Lyra's disappointment was obvious in her tone of voice. "But who was..." She gestured to the body lying down on the ground.

The witch looked past Lyra to the man she'd slain, "A remnant of the church seeking to complete what his brother had not, possibly hired by the angel, but it doesn't matter now, you're safe."

"I figured..." The thought that there were still men out there seeking her death shook her up.

"Lyra dear, you don't look at all well."

And she wasn't, her stomach retched and she suddenly became violently sick. This was turning out to be a bad day.  
  
Ending Author's Notes- Indeed, I started writing this on paper a few weeks before I'm writing this, I was having trouble, and Chapter 9 is coming on its way as well. And I said I'm not a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, I'm still not, I was thinking of killing Lyra off anyway and laughing as people started actually getting angry, but I never did say _who_ died in the alley.


	8. Of Bounties and Hunters

Author's Notes- I think I can answer all the reviews in here as well; I'm trying to get something done before my brother comes down and I'm too embarrassed to let him see. AND he doesn't even wake up until 1 in the afternoon, or even later, I am attending a computer programming camp, from 7 in the morning to 6 in the afternoon, quite a lot of time to not be writing. If you knew me, you'd understand. So in case you're wondering I postponed continuing the Will and Lyra chapters to build some suspense, but no matter what happens in the next chapters please stick with me. So in my waiting period I have had time to let the plot evolve, and its pretty nice now, but you'll have to wait and see what I do : ). But as I was playing with one of those bungee ball things, it hit me in the head, I fell over and I hatched a character, he slowly evolved into two characters, and so on and so forth, until he and his partner become quite interwoven in the plot. Which I'm quite pleased with. So continuing the plot into the next chapter... I hope you enjoy it.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Of Bounties and Hunters  
  
Arhen tapped his toe impatiently as he sat against a wide oak located on the fringes of a great forest. He scanned the military compound on the east horizon every few minutes waiting for a sign of his returning partner.  
  
The two were of a race called the Mabari, strong folk, who usually lived for over one hundred years, the Mabari kept no record of their age, but the two in human years would be around sixteen years of age. Their skin was usually a shade of light blue, and Arhen was no exception. Females of their kind were found distinctly beautiful by humans, and they were usually enlisted as prostitutes, their hair would change colors according to their moods, but the most skilled of the revolting profession could hold the color to pink, generally a sign of love.  
Arhen stopped scanning the horizon and held his attention on a single figure walking away from the installation, he drew his sword out of instinct but as the figure came nearer, he sheathed the naked blade. As the lone figure came out of sight from the installation it caught sight of Arhen and began running toward him.  
Arhen recognized his partner as she came up to him. She ran up the final hill to him, and fell onto her knees within talking distance, she was breathing heavily and Arhen was hoping against everything that it was from the run over to him.  
She was a distinct beauty, perfect in every form, and even her fellow Malbaris were amazed at her loveliness. Her name was Mabelyrian, females of her traditionally had long names meaning something, and ending with a family name. She was tall, slender, and tried to hide her muscularity without much success. Her face was round. But Arhen could tell that she was disturbed. She wore a semi-transparent, revealing, tight shirt. But the eyes that observed her were not of love, but of concern.  
Her hair was a dull pink, and as she relaxed it turned back into the muddy brown of disgust.  
She grumbled, but even in her anger her voice was melodic, and wonderful, "Filthy bastards..."  
Arhen nodded in agreement and pointed out a bundle of armor hidden behind the tree he was resting his back on, she walked over while stripping off her clothing. As she reached the tree she took out a small bag and shoved her garb into it with disgust, after taking out a few hard earned coins and tossing them into a concealed packet tied to her waist. She would never keep the filthy money, she gave it away to homeless Mabaris, and Arhen had never argued against it, he knew it was important to her. She straightened out her battle scarred armor and looked over it with love.  
Arhen was turned away from her while she was standing naked, but he knew she wouldn't have minded, she understood he was not like the other Mabaris that had tried to get her drunk and take advantage of her, who had not been expecting a young woman to carry a knife around in her boot.  
The armor the two partners wore was of a special kind of light- weight, turquoise, metal that could be woven into loose fitting and nearly invulnerable clothing, or made into a bullet proof plate mail, obviously, very expensive. The two had blown all of their money before they began their career just to pay for it. The armor was made of two pieces and a lining: the top was a light breast plate with wide shoulder plates, and the bottom was a long woven skirt, the set was worn by both of them and almost identical, with obvious different customizations for Mabelyrian. The lining wasn't attached to the armor itself but was arranged to slide on with the armor.  
"Hey, you ok?"  
"It's just a job, Arhen..."  
"Well, yeh, but c'mon you hate this stuff, Mabes..."  
She walked over in front of him looking inattentively in the direction of the compound, her shirt was still off, and the wind was loosely blowing her teal hair across her face, she was still flipping around the switches on her armor to open it up far enough to get it on.  
"It's a way to get money... that's all..."  
Arhen could see how her part of their partnership was affecting her horribly, she seemed distant, angry and sad all at once. Her hair didn't have a color to match those feelings and when she was like this it went to a glimmering grey, not an older woman's shriveled grey, more full, but it was still less attractive then a bright yellow of happiness or the rarest of all, a dark shade of pink, not forced but naturally. Before he had time to comfort her she spoke again.  
"It's life as we know it, Arhen, and I despise every moment of it, even when I'm sleeping, I wish life would just end, and leave me alone." She spoke coldly.  
Arhen was taken aback by her comment.  
"C'mon you know you don't mean it... you don't, do you?"  
She turned around, her armor was fully on now and she was strapping her sword onto a belt at her waist. Her face was set, and she shook her head, "I mean it, Arhen, but who knows," she shrugged, "if there's as much money in balloon travel as you seem to think, maybe I'll never need to do it again. She shivered when she said 'it', and Arhen instantly knew that she didn't mean killing, she did that without hesitation, and was merciless in a fight, he didn't want to sound arrogant, but he was much swifter with a blade than she was.  
The world they lived in had three primary periods of time, the ages of peace, civil war, and the age of the hunters. At once their world lived in peace, humans and Mabaris living together to prosper, but there was a group of rogue humans who believed that the Mabaris were not created by the almighty God, and were in fact satanic, and they broke themselves apart from the main continents to begin plans to slaughter ever Mabari women, man and child. At first these renegades were no more than an annoying fly, but they eventually gained more supporters, and began their planetary inquisition. And the peaceful Mabaris were the first ones to die, including almost the entire Mabari village where Arhen and Mabelyrian had grown, killing their families and friends, they were of the lucky few to escape. When all seemed to be going to hell, the humans not siding with the rebels joined forces with the Mabaris to fight the revolt and then all seemed to be peaceful once again, but their seemed to be an infinite supply of fresh soldiers to the battlefronts on the side of the rogues. They were different from the others, they had more advanced weapons, tougher skins, and braver than the average human. The Mabaris expected that they were from the other worlds but the other humans on their side had no idea. As the wars raged on, the two armies were shattered into more and more separate cells of soldiers, until finally when the Mabari haters could no longer tell friend from foe the wars vanished and the individual cells fought amongst each other, forming and breaking loose alliances as quickly as they could. So began the age of the hunters, Mabaris wishing to have no part in these conflicts tried to hide among populous cities and towns, but they soon became aware that they were to have a large part in the resolution. They created the first bounty hunter's guild.  
Arhen shook his head to clear his world's history from his mind, he had no idea why he was thinking about it. Mabelyrian was sitting next to him by the tree trunk sleeping lightly with her head against the cold metal of his shoulder plates. The heat her body radiated warmed his side even through the thick metal. He didn't want to wake her se he sat there keeping watch for scouts from the outpost or any other renegade soldiers. And without realizing it, he sank back into his recitation of his history.  
The bounty hunter's guild allowed anyone, human or Mabari to post a bounty on the head of any person they had issues with. The guild had terminals and outposts set up around the world and brought the Mabari culture together. The terminals showed bounties to a user's filters, to post vital information on a target for a small sum of money or to post targets that you wanted eliminated, it allowed anyone to make an earning. Of course, if you lied about anything in the terminal you would likely have a price on your own head shortly.  
But Arhen had broken the system; he ran a secret triple job, working for three warring cells at a time. His partner and him shared the payments fifty-fifty. She first used her... skills... to infiltrate the base, and she walked around the base, taking mental notes on defensive structures, enemy soldiers, and the location of anything valuable or rare. If she was caught she would act in a flirty, seductive manor, which she found repulsive. Giving subtle hints how when she came back, she would make it 'worth his while' if he let her go. But when she came back, he would only see her for a minute standing in front of him with her sword drawn and eyes blazing. But after she had vital information on the location of their bounties she'd go back to meat with Arhen and together they'd go in and secretly kill all their objectives, however they were often seen and the alarm raised, in which case they'd not hesitate to slaughter everyone in the building. After this they collected their payment from their employers, generally Mabelyrian collected the money after going back to the emplacement clad in the hated semi-transparent shirt, then Arhen would jump out of hiding and first of all kill their leader, then the rest later, gaining the bounty from the third party that they worked for. After that, if they had more bounties for that group they'd kill even more. The triple- play jobs paid off, but resulted in a brutal blood bath within a time frame of only two days to over a week.  
And that was punishing for Mabaris, they were a hardy folk but without a meditation rest every week or so for a full day or two they'd grow weaker and weaker until they couldn't even move. And the two were due for a long rest, and luckily they were in the third part of their job, after already collecting their pay.  
Arhen hadn't realized it, but he had fallen into a deep slumber and when he woke up realizing this he jumped up and ripped out his sword, waking Mabelyrian who was still resting on the slightly sharp edge of his armor. Arhen was surprised to see that there was actually a man leaning over him with a gun pointed at Mabelyrian, whom he recognized as a soldier from the cell that he was hunting, by his camouflage slacks, and white shirt. Arhen jumped into the man's gun shot range and a small metal shell bounced without denting into his chest plate, he took a step back from the collision, and ran forward and with a quick slash the man's head rolled face down into a muddy pool, and his severed stump of a neck was spouting blood, Arhen kicked the body back so as not to bleed on him and Mabelyrian and kneeled down to look at her face.  
When he shot up, his armor's edge had ripped her face and she was trying to stifle the bleeding with her transparent shirt. The rip had barely missed her eyes, and if it hadn't she would've been permanently blinded. Blood was dripping down her face and Arhen jumped to her bag and pulled out a small flask of a clear blueish liquid. He took her shirt and dripped a substantial amount of the concoction onto it, the liquid seeped into the cloth mixing with blood and stained it a deep purple. He held it to her face and she let out a muffled gasp, Arhen knew that the liquid stung horribly and was surprised that she withstood the pain with only a gasp.  
"I'm sorry, Mabes, I shouldn't have..."  
"No. I'd be far worse if you hadn't."  
Arhen knew that she was right, and let her take hold of the rags before going off to take a shining rag from a bag similar to Mabelyrian's own one, and with it he cleaned off his armor looking with concern at Mabelyrian's bloodied face, she was still beautiful, but those foul humans would see her as ugly with her face distorted. Ugly! Hah!, He spat out on the ground, Their own women are ugly, they even fool their wives, and go off with other more appealing women. He spat again with disgust. "I'd never abandon Mabes..." Arhen was shocked when he made this comparison, it was the first part of a revelation that would turn his life around forever. He turned around to look at Mabelyrian again, and the feeling came back twice as vivid. He watched her fluid motions as she stood up still holding the cloth to her face, and the feeling strengthened. He watched her go off into the woods in search for a stream, and only when she was finally out of his vision did the feeling only slightly abate. He had seen her through new eyes, and he enjoyed what he saw.  
  
Ending Author's Notes- I've never had this section before and I decided to make one. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was the longest I've had so far, and I could've continued for an additional few pages on history, religion, culture that I had all formulated on long car rides. But I might make a companion book later on that will have everything : P. I enjoyed writing this chapter: prostitutes, history, violence, love... it went by quickly (only about two hours) but its my favorite chapter so far (chapter 6 isn't too far behind though : P), but I had to keep switching from this to Blades of Avernum that's minimized at the bottom of my screen in case someone walks down. It's funny that I can let complete strangers read this and not my friends, but, whatever, I'm a freaky kind of person. It took me awhile, and I'm sorry for the lack of updates, but from this Saturday the 17th to... well the next Saturday I'll write a lot, I'm not gonna be able to use my computer during the week after next, (lousy furnishing my basement), but the week AFTER that I'll be back with you. But the week AFTER that one I'll be gone again (camp again). So it'll be on and off updates over the next month or so. I might be able to get a pad of paper and write when I can't use my computer, maybe, but I donno. 2,763 words, right... now. 


	9. The Boy, the Man, and the Knife

Author's Notes- Yay another update! I got two hours to write this chapter which is just as long as I had to write Chapter 7, so I think I smell another winner. All I've thought about over the past few weeks is this book and the thought of losing a love, yeh, that's up. I would say it, but stars seem more appropriate for a book supposing rated PG-13, I've been getting a tad bit vivid lately, Chapter 7's new female character seems to have been a little more rated R but as long as I don't describe her.... talents... I should be fine. I felt like a character like that would be cool, I'm sorry if you feel pissed off. But any hoot, if you ever need to get away from something that's pissing you off, check out this website, ?id=5, and the game Madness Interactive, it's a great stress relief, I've been able to play it and forget everything that happened that day. But if you're religious it might offend you, blasting Jesus' head off with a shotgun is kinda raunchy. But it doesn't look real, it'd be rated M. But enough for the lousy commercials... After a review from Ceres, and reading his 'Ten Commandments On Writing a HDM Fanfiction', I've been thinking about keeping Arhen and Mabelyrian as the new main characters, and normally that wouldn't be a Fanfiction but if I keep the rest of the crew in there somewhere with only a few chapters centered around them I think it might be better.  
  
"Listening to rock music at full blast in the middle of the night is a bad idea, it you up..."- Someone in a chat room I was in last night.  
  
"On an empty shelf  
In an unfilled cupboard,  
In a bare room,  
In the house of my mind,  
Lies a box filled with memories,  
Put away to never to be seen.  
Never again."  
-Craig Schwarz- from "My Attempts at Being Deep"  
To whom I donate this chapter.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
The Boy, the Man, and the Knife  
  
Midsummer. The man slumped down in his chair, the pistol still tracing Will's chest. Will, Mary, and Elizabeth were crunched into a corner of the small shack, the building smelled of rotting flesh and dried blood, Shawn had moved the corpse, but not soon enough to prevent the horrible stench of death. The man's wrist facing outward, Will craned his neck to see the wrist watch still in position there. He cursed under his breath, five to twelve, and even if he could get out, he was over an hour by car from Oxford.  
He slumped down against the bare wall at his back.  
"You will get the shards."  
Will looked up slowly to see Shawn standing above him with the pistol pointed downwards. "Now?"  
The man looked ready to kick Will, he stalled as if considering the action, but kicked him anyway before nodding.  
Will stood up and his body ached from the action, he'd been up too long for this kind of stuff, and his lack of sleep was making him more and more irritable. If the man kicked him again he'd be ready.  
The men indicate the two women still crammed into the corner, "You too..."  
The other two stood up and, walking abreast, they walked towards the entrance of the run down shack. Shawn followed close behind, he had adorned a concealing trench coat as his partner had, and Will wondered if it had been the same one. The man pointed to the car as Will had expected and they, for the second time, got into the old sedan. Will tried to sleep during the car ride, but the constant bouncing of the rickety car kept him in an eerie half-sleep in which he could still see the front of the car, and at the same time the first images were blurred with dreams of his Lyra.  
He awoke the hour later as the car pulled into Ms. Malone's driveway. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes he noticed embarrassedly that his face was wet. He quickly rubbed his sleeve across his face. The four shuffled out of the car and the three doors slammed in a shower of rust. Will looked up at the familiar house that had become his home.  
The two story building was painted a light shade of blue, and the door, white. The garage protruded from the front-right of the buildings an extra twenty feet, and on the left, the doorway was sheltered by a slanted overhang with gutters lining the lowest part to allow runoff.  
The four walked into the house, with Shawn in the rear, as always, carrying around his gun concealed.  
"Get em', and get back."  
Without turning around Will nodded and took the stairs to his right two at a time. Eager to be away from Shawn and the gun, if only for a small time. At the top of the flight he turned right into the study that Mary had made out into his room.  
At the far side of the room, behind a large oaken desk, a single door lay almost completely hidden from view, and would only reveal itself if someone were to look directly at it.  
Will walked up to the desk and pushed it far enough to the right so as to open the door far enough to reach an arm in and withdraw the old shoebox. He ripped off the tape around the border and opened the box, unprepared for the memories ready to spring out and hit him down.  
He looked down into the contents of the box, what must've looked like random doodads to anyone else, but what held the most horrible memories to him. He picked up each of the objects in turn, turning each one in his hands as it played its part in the story running through his mind. The lacquer spyglass, a yellowed shard of grass from the grove where himself and Lyra uncovered their true feelings for one another, other organic objects from their treks through the worlds. Will handled each of the shards delicately, each one still sharp enough to cut through his hand like a hot knife through butter. And most memory provoking one of the red fruits from the wheeled animal's world. A single tear fell unhindered down his cheek, and remembering a time when once Lyra's own tear had done the same, it brought more, and it just recently dawned on him that he had missed the noon hour of midsummer's day ,sleeping in a car, had decreased his mood even farther.  
He carefully picked each of the shards out from the box, thumb and forefinger holding the flat of the blade between them, and carefully dropped them back into place inside the sheath.  
"Hurry up, and don't try anything fancy!"  
Will looked around the room for the last time, he had felt Kirjava's presence near him and looked around for her. His curiosity was soon downed as the cat-formed daemon leapt in from the open window sill. Will placed the sheath onto the table, and picked Kirjava up in his arms. She purred contentedly.  
She nuzzled his face, and with her soft fur against his face, he wished he could stay here forever. However his bliss was short-lived as the ugly Irish voice called out from the lower floor.  
"Get down here!"  
"Kirjava," Will whispered, "you have to stay away."  
The daemon looked up at him with a firm look in her eyes, "No," she said solidly, "I won't let this happen to you... the witches said that all people in our world had daemons, but that they couldn't see them."  
Will nodded in agreement, with hope brimming. "You can see them?"  
Kirjava shook her head, and Will's hope faded. "But I know what and where it would be."  
Footsteps on the stairs.  
Kirjava jumped lightly down from Will's arms and padded softly toward the left of the doorway. Will could feel it inside himself as she tensed, ready to spring. And she could feel his own nervousness.  
The man crashed into the closed door with brutish strength, and not even trying the door knob, knocked it off its hinges. Splinters of wood flew every which way, but Will and Kirjava were lucky enough to not be pierced.  
The man's face was bright red, and blood was flowing down several punctuation points, where he had been unlucky enough to catch a splinter, not to mention his right arm which hung limply at his side. Seeing Will there, he growled and spittle flew out of his mouth. Will took a step back from the man's fervor, why was he so intent on getting the knife?  
As the man stood there breathing heavily, Kirjava lunged into the air to his left on a collision course with his left leg. But halfway through the dive she stopped in mid-air and hung there. With her teeth clenched around some invisible force.  
The man gave a startled grunt as he felt the pain of his invisible daemon, he reached into the trench coat, and pulled out the gun with his left hand. Will noted how his hand swiveled about, and the pain of his impact, the pain of his daemon, and the left not being his strong hand, Will could tell that he would have trouble aiming.  
Will tackled into the man's side and ripped the gun out of his weak hand. He took a few uncertain steps backwards and held the gun steady, he had no intention of shooting, but intimidation was a powerful ally.  
Running backwards through the destroyed door frame, with the gun pointed back, and Kirjava walking beside him, Will quickly made his way down the stairs. Concealing the gun inside his pocket he addressed Mary and Elizabeth's confused stares.  
"Hurry, he's upstairs, stunned..."  
The two women nodded and ran for the front door. As Will's hand went out to turn the knob, the door slammed inwards with such force that Will was knocked back, landing on his side, his vision was blurry and before he blanked out he could barely discern a shimmering ray of light morph into the shape of a human being.  
Will shook his head to try and clear his vision, and wondered if he had just died. 


	10. Against the Odds

Author's notes-Today (7/21/04) I have already written one chapter and posted one on Fan Fiction, it's late and I'm gonna try to write Chapter 9 in around one-two hours, however (haha) I'm not promising anything, by the time this gets to you it may already be August. I also wrote Chapter 6- Part 2. But don't get your hopes up to how it'll end up, reread the end to Chapter 6, their dead, and never coming back. grins evilly. Also, Chapter 8 being Will's, and Chapter 6-Part 2 coming out, I decided to go back to the bounty hunting adventures of A and M. (My quick names for them, see how easy it is to say?) I'm serious try it. Now. Stop reading. TRY IT! Sorry, I haven't slept for a while, I get... interesting. But enough blathering... Chapter 9. Here it is.

Author's notes-(8/19/04) So much for finishing this before August, I'll try before September now. :-). And remember to kill your everyday dose of Nazis, online or off. I know I have and look what it's done for me!

Chapter 9

Against the Odds

Mabelyrian soon found a path leading out from the woods, remembering following it on their way here and passing by a small brook, she decided to follow the path back into the woods. By now, her rag of a shirt had been died almost completely red, but she didn't care, she was glad to be rid of it. Tossing the despicable thing aside would have contented her anger, but it was the only thing stopping the floods of blood that were being slowed at the source.

She felt slightly dizzy as she wobbled along the trail, and her forehead was a hot flare of pain. Taking the makeshift bandage away from her wound for a moment, she reached a tentative hand up to feel the wound. She was shocked at the deep depression the cut had made, and when she withdrew her hand she was not in the least surprised to note that it was covered in blood. The dizzy feeling came back again and she quickly held the shirt up to her face again.

After another twenty minutes of labored and dizzying walking, she came to the gargling brook that she'd passed the day before. Running parallel to the path for around forty feet, before branching off to one side. The brook ran into a small depression of earth where it widened and slowed to become more like a tranquil lake than a small noisy river. Here it was that Mabelyrian chose to wash.

An hour later Mabelyrian walked back to her and Arhen's camp. And Arhen noticed how much noticeably better she looked after her wash. Her armor had been equipped again. As she walked into camp she leaned against the same tree as Arhen had.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked.

"Don't you want to rest some more first?"

She shook her head, "I'll be fine, but if we wait much longer, we won't be able to do anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, let's just go. They only have two guard towers, each with a pair of guards and a small mounted machine gun, both in the front of the compound. There's a small entrance in the rear leading through the guards quarters, the door isn't even locked, this should be easy..."

"Hmm... it should be, where will Frank be?"

"The fat bastard never even leaves his room."

"Ok, let's go."

The forest, excluding a wide gravel road frequently traveled by caravans coming to or going from the compound, completely surrounded the concrete fortress, and traveling the fringes of the forest they made their way over rocks and roots to the rear side of the fortress.

They halted for a brief rest as they came into sight of the rear wall, the door was there as Mabelyrian promised, and only a single patrolman stood watch over the unlocked door.

Mabelyrian crouched over and foraged through the foliage until she straightened up with a rock about the size of her fist. She tossed it up once to test its weight and looked over at Arhen for his approval. He nodded, and she took a step back from him, holding the rock tight and bringing her right arm back past her head, she took a step forward and whipped the rock through the air, the man was unlucky enough to turn around to face the forest as the rock collided with a crack into his skull, knocking him over and out of sight.

Arhen looked shocked as Mabelyrian turned to face him with a satisfied smirk on her face, "I thought you were creating a distraction..."

"I was trying, I guess my aim slipped." She was smiling widely now, and Arhen didn't believe her for a second. The feeling from before came back again, and he almost laughed, you could never predict her.

He shrugged, "I guess you took care of the guard at least."

They crept over to the entrance and cast wary glances up to the ramparts of the back wall. Arhen tested the door and was relieved to find it unlocked. Opening the door far enough to peek inside, Arhen bent forward to look in, Mabelyrian followed suite, and both their hands shot to the door knob to slam the door shut.

Their hands were clasped together and Arhen shyly let go of his hold. She didn't seem to mind, "Of all the days," she sighed, "I can't believe this..."

Arhen nodded, "Did you hear anything about this before?"

"Of course not."

"What can we do about it?" Of all the days to have a party... "We can't wait, I already feel weaker."

"Could we charge them?"

"We _could_ if we just woke up from the meditation, and we got lucky, but we're already waning, its impossible. We could... just give up?"

"Not after what he did to me, I'm taking my revenge." A wild fire lit up her eyes, and Arhen knew it would be impossible to argue.

"Ok, well we'll need a plan, right?"

Mabelyrian jogged back to the fringe of the forest and searched through the foliage before coming back up with two fist-sized rocks.

Arhen nodded, "That'll work too."

She smiled at him, and jogged back to the doorway. Tossing one of the rocks to Arhen. She opened the door as far open as it would go, and ran in, several screams issued from within and a solid crack signified the rock's target. Arhen rolled into the opening and quickly counted heads, twenty-two against two... great. He sighed, threw his rock into the skull of a man who had reached his rifle, drew his sword and jumped into the brawl.

Arhen and Mabelyrian were jumping back and forth across the room, using their sense of Mabari foresight to predict the bullets a second before they hit. One particularly skilled soldier wearing a captains rank badge on his shirt and brandishing a powerfully modified semi-automatic pistol seemed to be their biggest concern, he realized quickly that the blue-skinned demons, as they had been called upon spinning like dervishes into the crowd, were easily too much for his men, and their weak rifles.

Arhen had just taken a hit from the captain and was surprised to be knocked heavily back into the wall two feet behind him, for cowardly soldiers with their weak fire power, this one had some firepower.

He kicked off the wall and almost flew through the air, he felt three guns trained on his head, and in a seconds time dropped down into a prone as the bullets whizzed through the air above his head, two of them he heard crashing into the wall, in the direction that the third bullet was heading came a scream, he jumped up in time to avoid another bullet. With a quick horizontal slash, a soldier to Arhen's right who had been aiming at Mabelyrian, fell down onto the floor.

She nodded towards him, then in the direction of the captain who had taken refuge behind a tipped over table with a few other soldiers. He nodded back.

The captain jumped up onto the over tipped table and fired many shots, to the left, to the right, and a few directly at Arhen, all at varying heights.

"Oh, cr-" The shots hit, he knew where the first two hit but after that everything went black. He had the vague feeling of being pressed against a wall, and almost felt that he was bleeding.

Mabelyrian gasped as Arhen hit the wall with a splatter of blood, the captain had turned to her, briefly aimed, and pulled the trigger, Mabelyrian winced. The gun issued a short _'click'_ and he looked horrified, fumbling into his pockets for another round of ammo, Mabelyrian took the advantage and leapt at him, knocking him back against the wall, she heard his bones crack and his struggling body went limp.

She pushed his body into one of the two soldiers behind the table, and bullets pounded into it, the other soldier aiming briefly, shot once into Mabelyrian's heart, the bullet, although pushing her back, rattled harmlessly off her armor. She jabbed her sword hard up to the hilt into the man's body, coming through the other side. She jumped out from the left side of the over-turned table, and glanced around the room filled with blood and bodies, she was the only one left standing. Running to the side of her partner she checked his condition, two shots to the chest, one to the left leg. "Damn..." Ripping off a shred of a dead soldier's shirt, she staunched the bleeding wounds.

A Captain's Last Sights

Irving's breathing was hard and his heart was gripped in an icy fear.

...

...

His hands groped inside the wide pockets of his camouflage pants, no ammo, he couldn't believe it.

...

...

She was coming towards him now, the curious scar on her forehead was livid with anger, and in a berserk rage she leapt at least four feet towards him, each moment frozen inside his fear.

...

...

He felt his bones break against her assault and the pain was so immense he wished he could end his own life right now, but he didn't have long to wait before the frozen veil of death covered his body.

...

...


	11. Faded Memories

Author's Notes- 8/21/04- Chapter 10, Wooo Hoooo! I'm listening to rap, talking to a friend of mine who is having relation issues, and watching some junk on cartoon network, its 1:30AM, and I think that doing all of the things at the same time has a negative effect on me. Once again, I'd like to say that I'm really surprised that so many people like my Fan Fiction, my friends never gave me as much support as a bunch of total strangers, thanks all! And thanks to my oblivious friend who didn't know I used the name of his band for the new chapter. If he ever reads this, I'll eat the floppy disk I saved it on.

Chapter 10

Faded Memories

As Will awoke, the first thing that he was aware of was the lack of the sapped strength that comes from lack of sleep. The second thing he was aware of, was a splitting headache, piercing through his temple. His vision fuzzed out each time blood traveled to his brain in a throb. A bright light came into and out of his vision with each throb.

Something damp and cool was being pressed against his forehead and he feebly raised an arm in protest, expecting it to be the source of his pain.

"Will?" A voice laden with concern came down to him, and it hurt to hear. Will dimly remembered who the voice belonged to, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. He tried to recall where he was, what he had been doing, but everything was a blank.

"Will, wake up!"

Will groaned, and he heard a sigh of relief.

Who was that?

His vision throbbed in, and he saw a middle-aged women's face looking down at him with concern.

He sat up, and was rewarded with an even more intense pain.

"Will, are you ok?" It was the women who was talking to him, and held a damp rag, still dripping in her right hand. His vision seemed to be clearing now, and faded less rapidly. He observed his surroundings, he was in a vaguely-familiar, lightly-furnished house, lying against a wall propped up with a variety of pillows.

Memories began flashing into his mind:

A door slamming open.

Something about a knife... maybe being stabbed... he wasn't bleeding...

His heart leaped but he didn't know why, he saw a girl in his mind's eye, tawny hair, like a lion's mane, golden brown, and what looked like a weasel-like creature wrapped around her neck. He almost felt ashamed for not remembering her name, but why should he? Did he know her?

And his memories were gone, that seemed all he could remember.

"Will...?"

"Who... are you?"

"Will! It's me, Mary!" Even now that the face had a name, he couldn't remember any Mary's..."

Will just sat there looking into her eyes, trying to remember who this woman might be.

"Uh-oh, Liz, I think he might have amnesia!"

"Damn, maybe it will wear off..."

Another woman came up to the first, red hair fell down to her shoulders and then curled slightly up. She was pretty, and possibly the same age as this 'Mary'.

"Will, you got knocked out by a suddenly slamming open door, you have amnesia and it seems you can't remember much of anything, you've been asleep for almost an entire day."

"Who is she?"

"This is Elizabeth, a close friend of mine."

Will shook his head, "No, the girl."

"What girl?"

"She was my age... I think... I remember her, but I don't know why..."

Mary took a few steps back and pulled lightly on Elizabeth's shoulder. They held a whispered conversation which Will couldn't hear.

"Who is he talking about, Mary?"

"Lyra! This must be serious, he can't even remember her... its sad..." Mary looked over her shoulder at Will, who was staring wide-eyed and open mouthed at his two missing fingers.

"What should we do, that Shawn creep and his freak buddy will want Will to tell them where to get the knife repaired.

"His 'freak buddy' was an angel, Liz. Angels can traverse the worlds without use of the knife, they could actually get the knife repaired, and who knows what they'd make Will do with it!"

Mary turned back to Will, who was now inspecting the knife's sheath. "The girl's name is Lyra, Will."

Who was she...? Will knew that he knew the girl, but he couldn't remember her.

"Who was she?"

"She and you..." Liz whispered something into her ear, and Mary nodded and whispered back, not too softly, however, "Yeh, no need to upset him..."

She turned back to Will, "She was a relation of yours, a cousin, I believe, I don't know why you would remember her."

"Oh." Will was still confused, 'No need to upset him...', 'a relation of yours, a cousin...' it didn't explain the way his heart leaped. Something was missing, he had a feeling they were lying to him. "And can you explain why I'm here?"

"Well, someone wants you to use an object of great power to serve his own needs, a knife."

"Oh, I remember a knife!"

"What do you remember about it?"

"Nothing, just the knife."

"Well, the knife can open windows between worlds, this may seem confusing to you, but you need to know this, this man that has captured us seems to need the knife for something, but we don't know what, you'll need to use it for him though, or we may die, do you remember how to use it?"

Actually Will did, now that she mentioned it, he remembered how to enter the state of mind that was required for the cut, he remembered that the knife had cost him the two fingers, but couldn't remember why.

There were heavy foot steps on the stairs, and Will turned his head to see a man walking down the stairs, heavily built, and with many cuts covering his arms and legs. He seemed to be talking to himself...

"Yeh, I need it done quickly."

"Indeed, I will certainly try." Who was _that?_ And Will saw it, the air shimmered for a brief second behind the big man. What the...?

"An angel..." Mary muttered to herself.

Angels... another memory flared into Will's mind, dark, winged figures flying, silhouetted against the full moon, that 'Lyra' girl was standing beside him, staring up as well.

The large man came up to Will, the angel had to be somewhere near, but in the morning light Will couldn't discern its shape. "You got a lot of nerve, boy. You're just lucky that I need you alive." His voice was full of spite. What was happening...? "How can I get the knife repaired, and no lying, now." The man poked Will hard in the chest.

Mary came to his aid, and stepped between the large man and Will, "He has amnesia from the fall, and he can't remember a thing, but... I know where the knife can be repaired."

"Then speak up, 'fore I lose my patience."

"Well, there's bears in another world that can-"

"Yes, I know, they can talk, give me the name."

"Iorek Byrnison."

"Hmm... convenient..." the voice came from the right side of the large man, and Will realized that it must've been the angel.

"Give me the shards, boy."

Will knew that the sheath held the knife shards, so picking it up, he gently tossed it a few feet into the hands of the large man.

"Xaxiern," he handed the knife to what looked like thin air, but something held it in place in the air. "Ask around, find this bear, tell him... that Will Parry's life is in danger, and that if it does not cooperate the boy's life will be forfeit."

"I will fly nonstop, it will not be long."

The door opened, and a shimmer of light was the only evidence that the angel had left. Shawn cautiously looked out the door, to the left and right, before shutting it again. "Do you know why I want the knife, boy?"

"No..."

"Good." The man walked down the hall and into the kitchen.

"Hmm..." Mary left Elizabeth and Will, and tip-toed up the stairs, making a right at the top of the stairs into Will's room.

A cat was padding softly over to where Will was seated, and paused several feet off. Will and it exchanged confused stares, and both shared the same amnesia. However Will could feel it's presence in his own mind.

The cat came up to Will, and leapt a short distance to sit in his lap. "Kir...java?" Several memories of himself and the cat came to mind, it was a creature called a daemon, part of him, that weasel-like thing was in one of the memories too, it must also be a daemon.

Will pet it gently, and Mary came back down to meet them, with a cardboard box under one arm. Kneeling down in front of him, she opened the box towards herself, so that only she could see the contents that it contained, she took out a hollow piece of what looked like bamboo, with a yellow circular glass-like piece in each end.

"Will, do you remember this?"

It seemed familiar, but he couldn't remember anything about it, so he shook his head.

"What about this?" She took out a glass jar filled with a yellowish oily looking liquid.

"No." Will shook his head.

"What about..." She reached into the box, was about to take something out, but put it down, and reached for something in one of the corners. "...this?"

She took out a small, red fruit, and Will was about to shake his head, when he was hit, almost like physical pain, with memories, from everywhere... men that were robbing his house... an opening in the air... a deserted city... a girl, it was Lyra. She was no cousin...! More and more came to him, he almost had a complete picture... a grove, and Lyra was there... they were looking for someone... Will felt almost nervous... She held a red fruit to his lips... And the next thing he knew they were kissing...

"Yes, I remember... but why did you tell me she was my..." Another memory hit him, he was in his own world, Lyra was looking at him sadly from the other side of a window in the air, he was closing it! He bent in for one last kiss, and she was lost forever... "Oh... thanks for not telling me before... It was almost enjoyable to be away from the pain."

Mary nodded, "We didn't want you to freak out."

"I wonder why Shawn wants the knife..."

"I don't know, I don't think he'd be prepared to tell us, maybe we could ask the angel when he gets back."

"He?"

"Yeh, he was obviously male, so I guess we just wait..."

Will nodded.


End file.
